


happy birthday, sumire.

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, mostly fluff tho. so much fluff. this is pathetically fluffy, sumi having a heart attack for 3k words: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She has everything to thank the Phantom Thieves for.
Relationships: Sakura Futaba & Yoshizawa Kasumi, Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Kasumi, if you squint
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	happy birthday, sumire.

Looking into the mirror and seeing yourself stare back at you is a luxury.

It’s been years, and she still struggles to find something she likes in her own reflection. Still, that girl is so remarkably herself that it makes her borderline sentimental. She hates her split ends and her smile, grimaces at the sight of them. And yet, it’s so comforting to recognize her own hands raking a brush through her hair, packaging herself into something presentable for the day—presentable by her own standards, now, not by anyone else’s.

There aren’t two beds in her room anymore, on opposite sides of each other as if they’re on separate sides of the universe. She can almost see it though, some days more than others. Her own private space can become the room she shared with her sister in the blink of an eye. As if the bed on the left isn’t in front of her, still tangible as anything else she can see with her own two eyes—but underwater, sinking slowly and taking Sumire’s sleeping body down with it.  
As if the one that hasn’t even been in her room for years is sitting right by the shore, waiting for her to float back up.

Drowning is honest-to-god the most freeing thing she’s done. She’s locked away her inner demons, ran away from the death she inadvertently caused, chastised and hated and erased herself from existence—and nothing can compare to _this._  
It’s kind of like starting anew. After Maruki’s change of heart, living seemed to drain every last bit of energy from her. She feared she might have faded away along with the palace; turned plastic and emotionless, scraps of what once was a living and breathing being. She got way worse before she started getting better.

She doesn’t know when the breakthrough happened, exactly. Making decisions that weren’t her own started feeling like putting her hand on a hot stove. Something that was once routine started feeling so horribly foreign it was almost dizzying. Changing her own mind to click with someone else’s desires started making her sick. A voice so distant it could only be her own would begin buzzing in the back of her throat at that moment, forming words upon words that begged to be set free.  
Before, that voice wouldn’t come from her own body. It was never her own vocal cords that stood their ground and fought for her own dream.  
She has a lot to thank the Phantom Thieves for.

Her own heart needed changing back then, and she was so blind to it. Now she understands many things she never understood before: for example, she knows you can’t possibly predict or be in control of your own fate. She also knows that you _have_ to be in control of your own _life,_ that ignoring the abyss only makes you more likely to fall in.  
She still has mixed feelings on the Phantom Thieves, weird as that might sound. Maybe she should have drowned back then, since she was unable to dig her way out of the ditch she made for herself. Maybe it serves her right.  
She did her share of suffering, though. Finding out the truth behind her own identity seemed to burn her alive. Now, years later, she can look at her own ashes and laugh.

She never considered herself to be one of them.

A reborn Sumire, turned nineteen years of age, doesn’t hate her name anymore. She responds to it without a second thought now, smiling at Maruki and Futaba and everyone else who casually passes her by and takes a second out of their day to wish her a happy birthday. She enjoys the small, subtle parts of living and all the meaningless small-talk she has with the girls in her school.  
She loves the bag she wore to school today, she picked it out and decorated it by herself. She loves her smile and loves using it whenever she wants, loves her opinions on current events, loves everything she can customize to her own tastes and fearlessly show to the world.

Futaba kept her company for lunch that day, alongside two other seniors from their class. They laughed their way down the hall, Futaba and the shorter of the two girls racing to the tiny stand in the school building that sold pastries.

The lady at the stand welcomes them with an apologetic smile… Looks like they were a few minutes too late to actually get to choose from a variety of pastries, though. First they let the birthday girl choose from the five leftover options staring back at them. After that, they played rock-paper-scissors to determine who got to choose afterwards, yowled when they would lose and laughed when they would win. At the end of the day, the four managed to buy their lunch without causing any major fights.

Well, without causing any major injuries.

“Man, that looks amazing!” Says the smaller of the two girls, the one who seems to have gotten the worst of the bargain, perking up to look at the other’s winnings.

“Can I have some of yours?” Futaba pushes her way between them, ganging up on the girl just the same.

“Hell no, just look at all the stuff you—HEY—!”

What proceeded went by almost too quickly: Futaba grabbing the girl’s lunch, playing tug-of-war with the bag once the shorter girl got her hands on it too, and proceeding to drop the thing on the floor.

To say the least, it was devastating. Sumire had never laughed more in her life.

They chose their spot in the schoolyard after that, sitting on the pavement to finish what was left of their meals. Normal life like this seemed almost impossible to her once upon a time. Sumire had thought she’d never find someone she entirely confides in, that she’d be so openly accepted by a group of her peers.

Her and Futaba make plans for that night, deciding to make cupcakes together and watch a movie. Futaba says she’ll make her a special one, birthday candle and all. It makes her remember the Phantom Thieves, the Metaverse, and everything in between.  
She rarely talks to them now.

Akira is mostly busy in Inaba, working his ass off to get a degree. He still does his best to visit, comes back to Leblanc as often as he can, calls it his second home and hugs them all tighter than ever when he finally sees them again. He considers them all his found family, and Sumire agrees. No matter how distant they become, all the memories come back when they spend quality time together—it’s touching, even though Sumire herself wasn’t around for most of it.

After everything settled down and the Metaverse collapsed, they all seemed to drift away. Yusuke and Ryuji stayed home for a year, and she enjoyed seeing them around while they were still in Tokyo. Everyone else had business to attend to elsewhere, Makoto and Haru moving out for college together and becoming nothing short of responsible and mature adults in the matter of a year and a half. Ann had her own wild and hectic life, travelling the globe with her modelling business…  
She was proud of them all.

Alongside the rest of the thieves, she spent a whopping year and a half convinced that Akechi had died in the engine room. A panicked call from Nijima’s older sister informed them otherwise, on an afternoon in march almost as cold as this one… it felt almost surreal.

She’s never seen any of them lose their cool that easily. After things calmed down, they made a promise to visit him regularly in the penitentiary… these days, it’s a bit difficult to do so together. They didn’t agree to start visiting individually—it just sort of happened.

Thinking it over… it’s been Makoto’s turn for a while, now. She hasn’t heard from her in the group chat, or the other Thieves, for that matter. It’s a little concerning, but it certainly isn’t the first time it happened. Makoto must be too busy to sit down at this point, honestly—the girl has a career and she hasn’t even graduated yet.

All things considered, Sumire is glad to have Futaba by her side. They have a lot of common ground to stand on, and she tries her best to support her when things get especially hard. If it weren’t for that friendship, god knows where she’d be now.   
She remembers breaking down, crying in her arms. She remembers steering a hyperventilating Futaba into the girl’s room on the first day of school, away from the crowd. It’s been a long time since either of them fell apart so easily.  
She still feels like she’s sinking, though, despite her own efforts and everyone else’s. Days like this make her realize there are wounds you can’t heal with perseverance alone.  
She used to share this day with someone else. Her parents smile and beam, give her a hug once she’s back home, but it feels empty, now. There’s no substance in the way they talk to her, no substance in the way she smiles or walks or _exists_ anymore.

Sumire liked noise, once. She liked being bombarded with questions, music, problems that aren’t her own and thoughts she can’t relate to. She always did, she used the static as a form of escapism, relationships as a form of living vicariously through others.  
She envied the fact that everything about her sister seemed to be loud and impactful, drawing attention to herself instantly. She wanted to learn how to make that sort of impact, copy her every move.  
Not now, though. Not anymore.

Now, Sumire likes the quiet. Honestly, she feels kind of old saying that, she’s only nineteen but the very idea of an extravagant and noisy gathering gives her a headache. She looks forward to spending her time with Futaba, one of the few people in the world that manage to cheer her up just by being close to her. Someone she trusts, and who trusts her just the same.

She feels an almost childish excitement, packing her bags with cooking supplies and lousy, old horror movies. The streets are shockingly empty even for the frigid weather, but she decides to walk her way to the Sakura residence anyways.

Only there’s no answer when she rings the doorbell… not for a concerning amount of time. She waits a few seconds, tries again, and the door opens by itself.

“Futaba…?” She’s used to Sojiro being away at Leblanc most of the times she comes over. Or maybe shooed away elsewhere by Futaba. She tries calling out to the girl a few more times, as she peeks her head into the main hallway.

_“Hey! Come in!”_

And so she does. The lights seem to be off everywhere except for the living room. Sumire makes a beeline towards the door that’s open just a crack, guided through the hallways by that dim illumination. It feels a little awkward, but it’s not the first time Futaba’s been too busy at her computer to answer the door. Must be in the middle of something.  
Upon opening the door, though, she’s met with a booming, uncoordinated cacophony of the word _“Surprise!”,_ and a short but suffocating bear-hug from two blonde ex-Phantom Thieves.

For a few seconds, she just stares at them blankly. When the shock of it all sets in it makes her jump, almost falling backwards and swinging the umbrella in her hands around like a madman.  
Ann and Ryuji stare back at the girl, one concerned and the other desperately trying not to laugh.

“ _Whoa, whoa--_ You alright there, Yoshizawa?” Chimes a voice from behind the two. “I didn’t think we’d scare you that much…”

 _It’s not my fault,_ she doesn’t have the breath to say, _you jumped me out of the blue._ It takes a second for her to really compose herself, open her eyes and look over the rest of the room. She can count a total of eight people, all peeking their way out of different hiding places.  
She barely recognizes Makoto jumping out from the curtains, and she’s pretty sure she wouldn’t recognize Haru behind her at all, were they to cross paths on the street. Through a smile, she thinks how the former keeps looking more and more like her sister.

She’s not about to cry, like in the cliché movies. She swears.

“Hey, no going back now,” Comes one of the three figures perched behind the sofa, “It was your idea, Futaba.”

“Yeah, well… surprise, then!” Futaba is the first of them to stand up from her hiding place and head towards the middle of the room, looking at the girl with a wide, nervous grin. “We got you cake! …Sorry if we gave you a heart attack, though.”

“Wow…” Sumire ogles Futaba, then the cardboard-cutout decorations, then the table. Ogles the _people,_ especially. It all feels so grand and unreal, like it might disappear at any moment. _“Wow.”_ She repeats, because words seem to be failing her right now.

Futaba gives a little snicker at that, arms folded and standing proudly in front of her creation. Instead of trying to speak any further and probably failing, Sumire runs up to give the girl a hug.

“Sumi…” There’s a quiet _aww_ from Ann, and Sumire only hugs the girl tighter. ”Really, it was no big deal…”

“Only it was. You made poor Yusuke set this up a whole day in advance.” Akira is the next to make his way from the sofa, patting Yusuke on the back. Yusuke, who’s checking his phone in the middle of the room, with one hand rested gently on the TV stand. Yusuke, who… didn’t exactly jump out from anywhere, now that she thinks about it. Was he just standing there the whole time…?

“It was hardly an issue. I enjoyed decorating, quite honestly.” The boy gives an honest smile, and Sumire feels herself getting sentimental again. She’s not about to cry.  
She _swears._

“We all wanted to do this,” comes the third and final voice, making a half-circle around the sofa before sitting himself down. “and it was about time, if you ask me.”  
She stares at the figure for about three seconds, just to make sure she hasn’t gone completely mad.

Akechi, thankfully, takes it as an invitation to explain what the hell is going on. “We… well, they wanted to surprise you.”

Alright, okay, finding out one of your best friends is out of jail is _not_ something you surprise people with. She’d slap him, but she’s not entirely convinced he’s real yet. 

“And you kept this from me…” says Sumire, dangerously close to cardiac arrest for the second time today, “for _how long?_ ”

“Not a lot, we swear.” Akira laughs. She definitely wants to believe him on that one… and, maybe slap the smug smile off his face too, while she’s at it. “Sae isn’t a miracle worker, afterall. The guy got lucky.”

“Alright… wow.” Sumire grabs her head in disbelief. She’s going to have the worst headache after this, that’s for sure. “Sorry, I’m just… you can imagine how shocking all of this is.”

Still, she’s… amazed, to say the least. Somehow, some way, Futaba managed to orchestrate this… ridiculous long con of a surprise party. Actually, that’s not too shocking in and of itself.  
Somehow, some way, Sumire found a group of friends wonderful enough to actually organize something like this for her. All of them, back to Tokyo, cancelling god-knows-what kind of plans just to have this night together.  
“It’s alright. Take your time.”

“No, no, I’m--” She takes a deep breath, unable to keep the smile from her face. For fuck’s sake, she’s not about to cry. “I’m fine. Let’s eat some cake, okay?”

She counts them all as they all make a semicircle around the table, light the candles, and sing. There’s nine of them in the room, including herself. They’ve grown up so damn much.  
She counts them again. Morgana is in her lap, so that makes ten. Futaba and Yusuke are to her left, Akira and Goro to her right. The candles on the cake light up pretty easily, making long and slim lines of orange, reflecting on everyone’s faces. She pinches herself, just to make sure.

Futaba almost knocks over the table trying to smear cake on her face. That does enough to break her out of her train of thought, smiling and giggling and—yeah, okay, she’s definitely crying now. _Fuck._

It’s not your typical, quiet and easy to hide, _dart your eyes around for a while and count to ten_ sort of crying. She can’t help but laugh through every sob, it’s honestly embarrassing. Her face feels beet-red almost instantly. She feels an arm wrapped around her, then another, and she reaches for both of them.  
Eventually, everyone joins in on the childish disaster of a group hug. God, they must look absolutely ridiculous like that. She knows it, and yet she can’t stop crying. She can’t stop crying and _laughing_ through it all, which is worse— it feels like a swarm of butterflies in her ribcage, coming out one by one with each sob.

She really didn’t realize how long she kept these emotions bottled up. She’ll have to apologize for that later, compose herself and wave them all goodbye, walk with them to the bus station and promise to actually catch up when she’s capable of forming coherent sentences.

There’s time for that, though. They stay like that for a good while, more than Sumire is comfortable with admitting, until Sumire is composed enough to actually eat the cake her dear friends took the time out of their day to make.

They finish later than expected. Maybe because of Sumire’s impromptu breakdown, maybe because they genuinely haven’t seen each other for so long. Either way, it’s a bit pointless to try and fit months of social interaction (maybe even a whole _year_ for some of them) into a single day.

She waves them off and sleeps over at Futaba’s that night. She has a lot to think about.

Looking into the mirror and seeing yourself stare back at you is a luxury. Looking at the world and having it see you for who you really are is a treasure.


End file.
